


I'll See You Soon in a Telescope Lens

by yurishika



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yurishika/pseuds/yurishika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he’d see a familiar figure, and Tatsuki would feel his heart stumble and stutter. But it would always be someone else, and he would take a deep breath and tell himself to stop looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll See You Soon in a Telescope Lens

**Author's Note:**

> \- The title of the fic is from the song _See You Soon_ by Coldplay.  
>  \- The thought of someone reading a book as they look at the train station was so appealing to me, I had to write this.  
> \- This was supposed to be Takachida, but suddenly I thought Tatsuru suited this better. Sorry, Bronwyn and Alice.

There is only one train station in town, opposite the bookstore that Tatsuki’s family owns. It’s new and small, and still not noted by the most complete maps in publication; but it does lead to larger towns, the nearest one being half an hour away. Then from there, there are larger stations that take you to larger towns, one town forty minutes away to a place he’d never understand or be comfortable in.

Tatsuki has never taken the train, nor is he planning to do so. He has everything he needs in this town. And if there’s anything else, he refuses to think about it.

Unfortunately, Mura reminds him every day.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Tatsuki asks his friend crossly, his eyes following Mura as he goes around the new pile of books delivered the previous day. Mura likes to read books, but doesn’t buy any from the store.

Mura goes to the university in the town half an hour away. There’s a small college in town, but he prefers to commute. “Unlike some other people,” he would say, “I’d like to get out of this town.”

Everyone in town either wants to leave, is leaving, or has left. Tatsuki doesn’t try to think about the last part.

“You should come with me one of these days,” Mura says. “I’ll give you a tour of my school. You’ll love the library.”

Tatsuki never takes Mura up on that offer. There’s a funny feeling at the pit of his stomach when he thinks of the train, heavy with hints of feelings he doesn’t like to scrutinize, because there is no need to feel betrayed or abandoned. There’s no need at all, just because there was a time when he had waved goodbye with a smile so wide it hurt.

It still hurts.

“I’m fine,” he tells Mura. “I have all the books I need in this store anyway, and”—he thinks his tone is too severe—“I’m not like some people. I’m pleased with what I have.”

Mura gives him a look, one he hates because it’s a mixture of “god, you’re so stupid” and “I feel sorry for you”, before providing Tatsuki with one of his typical glib answers, and leaving.

 

 

 

 

Tatsuki likes reading by his bedroom window every evening. It’s not exactly strange—he reads all the time, and the lighting is best by the window. That, and his bedroom, above his family’s bookstore, faces the station.

In the mornings and in the evenings, Tatsuki watches the station from his room.

Sometimes he’d see a familiar figure, and Tatsuki would feel his heart stumble and stutter. But it would always be someone else, and he would take a deep breath and tell himself to stop looking.

Not that he’s looking for anyone.

He has everything he needs, right where he lives.

 

 

 

 

_Tatsu,_

_It’s been two months, and I miss you so much. I can’t go home this summer, though. My first semester just ended, but I still feel lost. The students here seem to know everything, and I don’t. I have a lot to catch up on._

_If you’re not busy from the bookstore, I really hope you’d come visit. I have to show you a lot of things. I want to share so much of my new life. Please come. I miss you._

_Y_ _uzuru_

 

 

 

 

Despite his doubts, Tatsuki had tried to be happy about Yuzuru moving away for university. They didn’t say anything about breaking up, how hard it is to maintain a relationship given the distance. It’s not that far—just an hour away. But right now, Yuzuru felt like he’s in the other end of the world. Yuzuru promised to come back during the holidays, and Tatsuki promised to visit when he has more than a few days off. But life happened.

Yuzuru’s letters are always full of stories of people and places Tatsuki would never know. It was exciting at first, but it began to wear at him. _Yuzuru isn’t coming back,_ he would tell himself. _He loves where he is right now._ Soon, the longing and love would turn into bitterness, and his own replies would become stiffer and less expressive.

 

 

 

 

_It’s so cold here! I miss the warmth back home. We’ll have a short break in two weeks. It’s only for four days, but I’ll try to make it back. But if I can’t finish my papers in time, I guess I’ll have to spend my break doing so._

_T_ _here’s this guy in my new class who’s a repeat student. He’s always asleep in class, but he treated me to dinner after I lent him my notes, and it turns out he’s pretty interesting. I think you’d like him—he’s kind of quiet, the way I think of you._

_How are the others, by the way? I haven’t heard from Haruka since she visited a few months ago._

_You’ve been writing less, yourself. Are you mad because I didn’t go back during my winter break? I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you._

_Yuzuru_

 

 

 

 

When Tatsuki writes to Yuzuru, he sets aside feelings of bitterness so that he can be cheerful and heartening. After all, any problem that he has is his own. He doesn’t want Yuzuru to think that he can’t move on, and that he still spends his days feeling like there’s a giant hole in his life. Not when Yuzuru is having a good time.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t visit. Maybe because Yuzuru keeps claiming that he’d love it there, and he doesn’t want to love it. He doesn’t want to like anything about the place that took Yuzuru away from him.

 

 

 

 

_Are you sure you can’t get any time off from the store? Even if your dad’s traveling, you have some staff to handle things, right? I really hope you’d change your mind._

_I just got off the phone with Haruka. She must have enjoyed her last stay here because she sounds so eager. It’d be really great to see her, and Mura, again._

_Please at least think about coming with them._

_Yuzuru_

 

 

 

 

Mura’s planning to move, too. He had always wanted to get out of here, out of the place they grew up in, and when he visited Yuzuru, his determination had become stronger. He’s about to finish his degree, and he plans to find work in Yuzuru’s city.

 

 

 

 

_Tatsu,_

_I haven’t received anything from you in months. And Mura says you still haven’t replaced the phone you lost last month._

_Are we still okay?_

_Yuzuru_

 

 

 

 

It doesn’t happen all at once, even though it felt like it. Tatsuki’s letters become shorter over time. There isn’t much to say when every day feels the same. There are stories he wants to tell, but every time he pulls out his pen and gets ready to write, he starts thinking that these stories are best told in person, and he gets stuck. Besides, Yuzuru is practically brimming with stories, more interesting than what he has to offer.

The first year Yuzuru went away, they’d write every week. As Yuzuru starts getting busier, the letters come once every month, then once every two months. By the time Yuzuru wrote, explaining he has decided to stay where he was, the letters come only three or four times a year. Tatsuki stops replying. Tatsuki stops waiting. As if his life had been kept on pause throughout the years, Tatsuki starts living.

Maybe high school romances aren’t meant to last. Maybe they should have broken up the moment Yuzuru decided to leave. Maybe the love they share is too imperfect, too weak when he holds it against pride or ambition. It doesn’t matter, Tatsuki thinks, because he’s doing just fine.

He closes his book and sighs a little at the thought of going down to work on a nice, rainy morning. He places the book on the windowsill and presses closer to take a better look at the figure outside, but the person turns around, and of course it’s not Yuzuru. Tatsuki swallows bitter disappointment that he refuses to recognize, and he’s about to pick his book back up when he sees Mura stepping out from the station entrance, glancing up at his window with a knowing look.

 

 

 

 

“What are you doing?” Haruka asks as she comes through the door. Tatsuki recognizes the lack of her usual morning greeting, so he motions for Haruka to shut the door. As if December mornings aren’t bad enough, it’s a drizzling December morning. He’d rather be curled up in his room, reading.

Tatsuki arches an eyebrow. “Going through a customer’s order list.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“You asked me what I was doing,” Tatsuki says calmly. “And what I’m doing right now is going through my customer’s orders.”

“It’s December.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yuzuru’s birthday is this month.”

Tatsuki’s fingers still over the keyboard, and he looks over the monitor at Haruka. “I’m aware of that, too,” he says, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

Haruka’s forehead creases in confusion, and she tilts her head to one side. “Don’t you think it’s been too long?” she asks.

“We’re not together anymore, Haruka,” Tatsuki explains. “We haven’t been together in a long time.”

“Yeah, but …” Haruka trails off, and she bends to rest her elbows on the counter. “It’s just wrong, somehow.”

She sounds so lost that Tatsuki feels like comforting her. “I know,” he tells Haruka softly, “but life goes on, right?”

Haruka narrows her eyes all of a sudden. “You’re still watching the station every day.” She looks stern, the desolation in her face earlier now gone.

“I’m going to kill Mura the next time I see him.” Tatsuki avoids Haruka’s eyes and goes back to his work. “And besides, just because I happen to be looking at the station one time, doesn’t mean I look every day. And even if I was, it’s because it’s right there across the street.”

“Don’t worry,” Haruka says sweetly. “I believe you.” She doesn’t sound sincere. Tatsuki wants to snap at her, but was startled into silent when Haruka gives him a light pat, says goodbye, and leaves.

Tatsuki tries to put the conversation out of his mind, but he does wonder if Haruka had come all the way to his store the first thing in the morning just to remind him of Yuzuru.

 

 

 

 

Two days before Yuzuru’s birthday, Tatsuki is restive. Maybe it’s Haruka’s words and knowing glances, maybe it’s the way Mura tells him that he’s being stupid without even opening his mouth, maybe it’s because he knows they’re right and _it’s about time_.

But however he thinks of it, too much time has passed and he doesn’t know what he should do. Maybe it’s too late. Maybe he had already thrown out one too many chances and had given up one too many times.

Twice, he almost walks up to the station. Twice, he asks himself what he’s doing, and unable to answer, he turns back.

 

 

 

 

Two days later, he doesn’t stop himself.

Tatsuki panics the moment he steps in the train and the doors close. What is he doing? He doesn’t even know Yuzuru’s new address. He doesn’t even know if Yuzuru wants to see him.

Maybe he’s working too much. He isn’t used to having so much time—that’s why he’s so restless. The only reason he thinks it’s because of Yuzuru is the fact that Mura and Haruka keep insisting.

Tatsuki starts to feel stupid, but he can’t do anything about it now—he’s already in the train. He finds a seat and tells himself that it’s fine. He could visit the library Mura says is so wonderful. He could just enjoy his break.

 

 

 

 

Yuzuru likes his new job. He likes his friends, and he loved his school. He knows this, and he knows he doesn’t want to leave this place, the place he has worked so hard to get to. He also knows there’s something missing in his new life, something he missed a little more than he probably should. He makes a choice to ignore it, because he’s afraid that if he goes back, he’ll never be able to leave again.

He wonders if Tatsuki knows that. He wonders if Tatsuki would ever forgive him for leaving. He wonders if Tatsuki knows that every day. In every train he takes, there’s a part of him that hopes to see Tatsuki. It isn’t likely to happen, but he still looks, and he still hopes.

It’s his birthday, but he’s only just going home, after doing overtime at work and falling asleep in the office. He doesn’t know what’s more pitiful—being in the office when the clock struck midnight and lighting a small cake for himself, or going home the next morning after taking the day off, but having no one to go home to.

He calls Kanako.

“Happy birthday!” Kanako’s cheeriness makes him smile.

“Thanks! Are you free later today?”

“No, I’m working.” Kanako doesn’t sound apologetic, but that’s just the way she is. Yuzuru’s used to it; they’ve been friends for quite a few years now. Even though they both graduated with the same degree, Yuzuru had chosen to work at a big company while Kanako became a full-timer in a small shop where she worked part-time.

Both of them are happy with their choices, so he supposes it doesn’t matter.

“I see,” he says. “Well, it’s okay then. It’s just that I haven’t made plans for today, and I’m wondering what to do.”

“Why don’t you visit your friends back home?”

Yuzuru pauses. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s been years since you’ve been home, right?”

“Yeah, but—” Mura visited the month before, and Haruka’s coming next week. Kanako knows that.

“When you get home, check your mailbox. I left your birthday present in there.” Kanako hangs up on him, and she doesn’t call back.

He checks his mail as soon as he gets home, and he finds a plain white envelope with his name on it, scrawled hastily in Kanako’s handwriting. Inside is a note.

_I asked your friends what you needed the most, and this Mura guy said to buy you this. Hope he’s right! – Kana_

Also inside is a single ticket to take him home.

_Home_ , he thinks, contemplating on the concept. If he’s thinking of “home” in the sense of his place of residence, then isn’t he already home? Or is it the place he grew up in? If it’s his hometown, then why doesn’t he feel the urge to stay?

Maybe it’s not the place that makes a home, a part of him says. Maybe it’s the people, or a person.

Tatsuki. When he thinks of Tatsuki, he feels flooded with warmth, like being out on a perfect, sunny day. Tatsuki, to him, is assurance, balance, stability … comfort. Love.

Home.

He doesn’t bother going up to his apartment as he runs back out of the lobby to catch his train.

 

 

 

 

When they meet, it isn’t really a coincidence. Tatsuki is at the platform of the station where Mura’s school is, and he calls Mura to check if his friend is around. Mura sounds irritated that he’s there, to his surprise. Wasn’t it Mura who always asks him to come?

“Yuzuru’s probably on his way home to see you,” Mura finally tells him, grumbling about Tatsuki spoiling his surprises and hanging up.

Tatsuki doesn’t quite know what happens next, because everything starts to get too loud and too bright and he can’t catch up enough to process anything. All he knows is that he starts to get frantic, looking for the next transfer back. He reaches the right platform just when the train leaves, so he has to wait thirty minutes for the next train to arrive.

That’s when he sees Yuzuru, or the brief outline of Yuzuru, walking down the steps to the platform. He thinks that it’s someone else at first—it’s not the first time he thought he saw Yuzuru only for it to be someone else. But when Yuzuru looks up at him with a face that mirrors his own surprise, and he knows.

There’s no one else there other than an elderly couple at the far end of the platform—it’s too late for there to be commuters going to work and too early for everyone else. They walk up to each other, feeling like it isn’t real at all, at the same time wondering what they’re supposed to do or say since they’ve both decided not to see each other anymore. But Yuzuru’s hand immediately takes his, and it feels like no time has passed at all, because it still feels just right and how things are supposed to be.

They sit at the waiting area, side by side, not speaking. Yuzuru’s hands has yet to let go of his, and he doesn’t mind.

“I miss you,” it’s Yuzuru who speaks first. Three words. Simple and easy to say, but within those words Tatsuki hears so much more. He hears regret and apologies and longing and hope, and most of all, he hears love.

He laughs. It’s a small laugh at first, but he can’t stop, and soon his shoulders are shaking and he’s laughing so hard he starts to tear up, and he doesn’t know if he’s laughing or crying anymore. He cries.

Mura’s right. He’d been so stupid to hold on to his bitterness towards Yuzuru for leaving, when it was never him that Yuzuru wanted to leave.

Yuzuru starts apologizing over and over, and he’s shaking his head and saying “No, it’s my fault”, and then he stops and they look at each other. Yuzuru laughs, too, and he smiles as he looks down at their still-entwined hands.

He isn’t going to let go this time.

 

 

 

 

~終~


End file.
